


Tschlatt: The Jschlatt Successor

by seraphic_sadist



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Tschlatt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphic_sadist/pseuds/seraphic_sadist
Summary: The election hadn’t gone according to plan. Separated and scared, Pogtopia bloomed as the new Manburg empire was already beginning to crumble. But the good thing about fear, was that it made way for new power, and false trust. So what was Schlatt waiting for?Based on a Tschlatt au by LilithLambada!Everything is post election, anything past that point is not included.
Comments: 77
Kudos: 529





	1. They Call Him Eve

**Author's Note:**

> how does ao3 work hnnggg

Tubbo didn’t know how he felt. Recently, he had been feeling a mix of all sorts of emotions. Nervous was one of them, and sad? He definitely felt sad. Schlatt had called him to have a private meeting in the castle. How he managed to get access to Eret’s estate was beyond Tubbo, but he didn’t care. This all made him feel... bad. Not because of his friends' exile, not because L’manburg was no more, he’s over all that. He felt bad because he’s starting to feel comfortable with all this.

Swinging the doors open after climbing the castle stairs, Tubbo entered the room. The long oak table was in the center of the room. Schlatt stood at the end, staring out the large window, his looming shadow obstructing the only light source. 

Without turning, Schlatt spoke, “have a seat Tubbo.” Wordless, Tubbo pulled out his chair and sat down on the other end of the table. “Yknow Tubbo-“

Overexcited, Tubbo talked, “Yes Schlatt?”

“Don’t interrupt me.” He was blunt, making Tubbo fear that he had already overstepped. 

“Right- yes- sorry.”

“Sorry who?” 

He bit his tongue, fingers itching to tug at the hem of his suit, “sorry Schlatt.” 

“That’s more like it.” He spun to face Tubbo, piercing yellow eyes stared directly at him. The twisted horns would have distracted from the stern expression coming from the human face staring at Tubbo, but Tubbo found this all as normal, boring even.

“Tubbo there are some people that would love to be in your place.”

To most, Schlatt looked like a god.

“Hell Tubbo there are some people who would _kill_ to be my right hand man. We don’t want that, do we?”

Tubbo nodded his head solemnly, “yes Schlatt.” He was barely paying attention, busy trying to decipher what Schlatt wanted from him.”

“In that case, I need you to do one small thing for me.” He spun his fingers in a circular motion, a small tornado formed. An object was being formed.

Tubbo couldn’t care less.

“Yes Schlatt.”

A grin spread across his face. “I need you to eat this.”

Blinking back into focus, Tubbo realized what had been presented before him. Across from him, in Schlatt’s grasp, was a shiny, golden apple.

“What?”

“Tubbo are you aware of the impact you have on this country?”

“I don’t see how this is relevant- what the hell is that?”

“Answer the question.”

Frustrated, he answered in a huff, “yes Schlatt, I am aware.” His tone was almost mocking himself. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Your position has power.”

“Power?” He echoed. “Barely. Every idea of power you’ve given me has been taken away.”

“Now that’s just not true. Tubbo, it has- you have influence.” He sighed, he ran his hand through his hair, grazing by his horns. “I never really cared for politics, Tubbo. What I do care for is being on top. All of this,” he gestures wildly at the window, “ I think of it... as a business, because they both have something in common. Do you know what that is?”

Tubbo shook his head no.

“Postions Tubbo, they have positions. Higher positions mean...”

“They mean more power.”

He clapped his hands together. “See now you’re getting it!” He noticed that Tubbo still wouldn’t revert back to that complacent and obedient expression that he walked in with. Schlatt has to think of something fast.

“You want me to be honest with you?”

Trying to hide his bitter tone, Tubbo answered, “yes Schlatt.”

Schlatt laughed, placing the apple that had been lingering in his left hand down on the table. 

“Tubbo I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He was stunned into silence.

“I know nobody here likes me, I’m lucky if I can serve even a year here before I get- well before someone kills me.”

Tubbo couldn’t believe that he was seeing Schlatt being... vulnerable. It would have been sad, he would have felt sorry for him. But as soon as Schlatt showed weakness, he pushed it back down.

“Tubbo I need a successor. And I need that successor, to be you.” He began fiddling with the apple on the table, rolling slightly between his fingers. “The issue is, you’re so nice. No one follows the nice kid.”

“Yes Schlatt.”

“There’s something about power that gets people to listen to _you_ Tubbo. And this,” he held up the apple once more. “this is raw power.”

Nothing but silence filled the room.

“...what happens if I eat the apple?”

Schlatt chuckled, “oh you’re not going to eat it. Just have one bite, any more won’t do anything.”

“And what about Wilbur and Tommy?”

“Remember how we're being honest, Tubbo?”

“Yes Schlatt?”

A smile pulled on his face, “be honest with me when I ask this: you don’t care about them anymore, do you?”

“I...”

“Look at me dead in the eyes and tell me you care about them. After everything they’ve put you through, all the verbal abuse, all the jokes at your expense, the destruction of property, and all the LIES." Schlatt was praying this manipulation would work, he needed this to work. "I want you to look at me Tubbo.” 

He tried to retain eye contact with the Schlatt, his glare was suffocating. He tried everything he could, but Tubbo couldn’t look at Schlatt directly. He just kept thinking about how he could convince Schlatt he was right. 

“Look at me Tubbo.”

He knows it’s all jokes, but he needs Schlatt to believe otherwise. He needs Schlatt to trust him.

“Tubbo.”

His breath hitches as he makes up his mind.

“LOOK AT ME TUBBO—“

“I CAN’T, OKAY?”

What Tubbo didn’t expect was a look of fear flashing across Schlatt’s face that disappeared as quickly as it came.

“I... I can’t. Because you’re right.” Tubbo held himself in his arms, his voice going into a whisper. It hurt him to lie.

“I don’t care about them.”

It hurt him so much.

“I think it’s been a while since you’ve known this.” Schlatt exhaled, not even aware of the breath he was holding. “After all, you’re here with me.”

Almost robotic, Tubbo spoke, “yes Schlatt.”

“So you want to prove to them you’re better off here, right?”

“Yes Schlatt.”

“Then you have a choice.”

He pushed the apple, moving it across the table. Light bounced off of its uneven shape while somehow managing to roll in a perfectly straight line into Tubbo’s hands. Schlatt noticed the unease in Tubbo’s expression.

“There’s no going back once you eat the apple. Believe me,” he knocked on his horns jokingly, “I know.”

“Yeah...” a small smile turned on Tubbo’s face. 

Schlatt muttered to himself, “so he responds positively to kindness.” 

“Sorry Schlatt, did you ask me something?” 

“No no, that’s my fault.” He folded his hands behind his back, eyes locked on Tubbo. 

“ _Please_ Tubbo, take a bite.” 

Unsure, but he didn’t have a choice. He was doing all of this for his friends. He needed them back.

As Tubbo took the bite from the apple, both men had the same thought in their minds: if I keep this up, he’ll believe I’m on his side.


	2. With Great Power, Comes Great Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo wakes up, but he doesn’t even remember going to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood  
> sorry it’s not too long and/or you’re still confused about what happened, everything will get explained in chapter 3 :)

It was all a blur from last night. The light of the sun had entered a room he didn’t remember sleeping in. It hit his eyes, but it only heightened the headache he had woken up with. Reaching to massage his head, the faint smell of iron lingered in the air. 

“How did I... get here..?”

Rising from the bed, the searing pain increased. He could feel it weighing him down, but he needed answers. The room was out of focus but Tubbo could recognize the walls. He was in Eret’s castle, he was still there.

His memory, although fuzzy, was piecing itself together. An apple, a smile, and pain. He remembered immediate pain.

Stumbling, as we stood from the bed, his quite literally splitting headache flared up. Going to run his hands through his hair, he hissed as two small and sharp spikes pricked his hand.

“What?”

His face went pale as he hurriedly searched the castle corners of this room to find a mirror. Tripping over himself, seeing double he could feel himself passing out. Somehow, this feeling was familiar. The overwhelming pain was growing, and he was growing weaker. Blinking only for a moment, Tubbo had to catch himself as he grabbed the top of a dresser for support, his hand knocking over something that shattered on the ground. He dropped to his knees as he grabbed his head in frustration and agony. But looking in front of him, shards of a reflective surface became obvious as the clouds disappeared up from the sky. The sun’s rays made it clear as day what was wrong with him.

Horns. Tubbo had two crooked horns growing out the top of his head. 

The pieces of the mirror were jagged, but jagged didn’t mean broken. Reaching to the tops of his head, he felt out the new twisted sticks that poked out his skull. They felt... unnatural. Uneven, and rigid like oak bark. The dried blood that enveloped these new horns smudged as his warm and shaky hands caressed them, and dropped back to rest by his sides.

What the hell was happening?

A knock on the door.

“Tubbo?”

Oh no.

“Tubbo are you alright?”

Anyone but him.

“Did the horns come in?”

Of course it was his fault.

“I’m coming in”

Tubbo heard arguing outside the door. Both voices were loud and recognizable as Schlatt and Eret. 

“Keep it down,” Eret mumbled on the other side of the door, “did you really have to open up like that? I doubt he wants to see you.”

Schlatt laughed, “okay traitor. Like he’d want to see you. I know what’s happening to him, you don’t.” His voice lowered, “you don’t know anything.”

The arguing continued on the outside, but Tubbo’s pain was unbearable. His eyes were clouded by tears as the only thing he could focus on were those pieces of that damn mirror. 

“I don’t want this.”

Eret and Schlatt went quiet, hearing Tubbo.

“Tubbo, are you alri- Schlatt what the hell are you doing-”

Two actions without thought were done at once. 

Schlatt pushes through Eret, forcing himself through the bedroom room to reach Tubbo. At that exact moment, Tubbo reached to largest shard and grabbed it forcefully. The pain from his now bloodstained hand was nothing compared to the unimaginable pain pulsing though his head. 

“I never wanted any of this.” 

Tubbo pulled the shard to his right horn.

“Let me though Eret-”

Tubbo couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the prospect of Schlatt having to resort to begging.

“-just listen to me for once.”

“Please.” Tubbo whispered, as he began to use the reflective glass again his horn.

“Eret, _please!_ ”

Schlatt burst through the door only to find Tubbo struggling to hold himself together. His right hand was damaged and resembled as if he had been cut by a saw. The bloody mirror shard was thrown across the room. Schlatt’s eyes darted towards Tubbo’s horns, and just as Schlatt expected, the horns remained intact.

Hesitant to approach, Schlatt slowly made his way towards Tubbo. “Are you... Tubbo are you okay?”

“I don’t know what I expected,” his hoarse voice was accented by how he was trying not to scream out from the pain throbbing from his head and now, his hand, “honestly I didn’t. But it wasn’t this.”

He didn’t know how to comfort Tubbo, he didn’t know how to comfort anyone.

“It’s not... Tubbo it’s your fault.”

“I could chop these off.” 

“No, no you couldn’t.”

“If I try harder I can.”

Schlatt sighed, “you tried and you hurt yourself more then you helped, look at your hand.” Tubbo’s eyes stayed fixated on the wall, “look at your hand.”

“If I don’t look it’s not real.” He stumbled as he got up, biting his tongue as his hand stung.

“Tubbo that’s not how it works-”

“Can’t you just let me throw a temper tantrum!”

Tubbo immediately reached to cover his mouth with his hands. Right over left was his instinct as Schlatt stared him down. Leaning against the dresser, the window behind him, Schlatt saw what Tubbo truly was. 

He was scared. 

“Tubbo?”

“Yes Schlatt.” It was muffled, blood getting in his mouth.

Walking towards him, Schlatt extended his arms, using them to pull Tubbo’s hands away from his mouth. 

“Hey look at me, Tubbo I need you to look at me when I say this.”

Absentminded eyes began to focus on Schlatt’s golden ones, “yes Schlatt-”

“Everything is going to be okay.”

And that broke him. 

Tears were streaming down his face as he was enveloppes by a soft hug, only Tubbo was squeezing the life out of Schlatt, and for some reason, Schlatt didn’t seem to mind. Hushed comforts escaped Schlatt’s lips as the sun shone on them both, a shadow fading into the rest of the darkness of this room. 

In those shadows, Eret watched from the doorway. Even if he wouldn’t listen, they decided on what to do. Eret needed to tell Tommy.


	3. Third Lie’s The Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally some lore! also thank you everyone for the support :)  
> i didn’t think people would like it honestly <3

“So I passed out?”

Schlatt hummed in agreement.

“...why?”

“I don’t know,” Schlatt said sighing, “probably from the pain.”

Tubbo winced at the mention of pain, subconsciously moving his left hand to cover up the bandaged right. 

Schlatt fiddled with a coin in his pocket. He was smart, at least, he thought he was. Trust was something he needed to gain from Tubbo. Schlatt needed all of this to work, he needed Tubbo to take over, before it was too late.

“Something on your mind, Schlatt?”

He chuckled solemnly, “just the regular amount.” An idea began to form in Schlatt’s head, but it came out of his mouth before he could think it over.

“Tubbo,” he shouldn’t be saying this, “did you know I had friends once?”

He tilted his head, adjusting his position on the bed he was resting in, now sitting up, “well, I mean I didn’t think that you were completely alone. Who in L’man- who in Manburg is a part of your old friends?”

“None of them.”

“Oh.”

Shifting his wooden chair, Schlatt moved from Tubbo’s bedside to face him forwards. “I had power once, the kind of power that you don’t get politically.”

“Yeah you were talking about that before, about me now having ‘raw power’ or something.”

“Yes well,” he stiffened, it’s far too late to back out of this now, “just watch this.”

Swirling his hands together, Schlatt focused on the small storm that was forming. His breath was shallow, and his eyes began to extenuate a golden glow. Tubbo gasped at the cyclone that was being formed within Schlatt’s palm. But just as quick as he made it, the storm dissipated. To Tubbo, Schlatt looked weak, he was heaving and struggling to say anything. However Schlatt was far from weak. He just needed a minute to think of some bullshit.

“I’m losing my power,” Schlatt lied through his teeth, “and you have to be the one to continue on the legacy.”

“But-“

“My friends,” he interrupted, “my friends were like me. Mad when with power. Grizzly, Charlie, and Condi... they couldn’t handle it.” He averted his eyes, memories of the past were never pleasant to bring up, even when bending their truth, “Connor was the only one who told me off and I-“ his voice wasn’t breaking by his own accord, “I killed him. I left the place where I killed him because I kept wanting _more_. And now,” he lazily threw his arms to the air, “I’m reduced to this.”

Tubbo wasn’t speaking.

“Is something wrong Tubbo?”

“No Schlatt,” he murmured, “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, of course I am but if all that happened, why did you pick me?”

He laughed, “oh I didn’t pick you Tubbo, the apple did.”

“The apple?” Tubbo questioned.

“Oh yeah, the apple picked me when I was your age. Next thing I know, after I meet you, it appears on my desk,” Schlatt was careful to be as vague as possible to avoid suspicion, “just as it did with my old friends.”

“How do I know it was meant for me?”

“It was gold plated, wasn’t it?”

Tubbo ran his fingers over his lips, “yes Schlatt.”

“If anyone else has bitten into it, they simply wouldn’t have been able to,” Schlatt grimaced, “trust me, I know.”

A knock on the door interrupted the two. It clicked open as Eret entered the room with a meal, salmon and some seaweed salad.

Wordlessly, they placed the meal on the dresser by the window, and nodded to Tubbo as they went back to the door.

“Wait- Eret,” Tubbo insisted, “thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Sure.”

They didn’t mean that hint of rudeness, but they were barely paying any attention to Tubbo. Their head was towards him, but his bright, blank white eyes were fixated on Schlatt’s yellow ones. 

“Rest up Tubbo.”

The door closed with a creak as Eret left.

“Did you see what that was?”

“Eret? Besides that, no Schlatt, I didn’t.”

Schlatt’s hands went to fists, “that was disrespect. They have the nerve to talk to you like that Tubbo, me I understand, but you?” He eyed Tubbo up and down, “especially in the state you’re in, they’re just being cruel.”

“But they brought me food,” he pointed at the plate, “why would they-“

“It’s poisoned.” He blurted, “it’s probably poisoned.”

Without a second thought, Schlatt bolted from his seat and dumped the food behind the dresser, straight out the large opened window, much to Tubbo’s dismay.

“What the hell man?”

His expression went soft, “Tubbo we can’t trust anyone but each other, okay? Eret is one of the people here who want me dead, and after what has been done to you, I bet he wants you dead too.”

“I mean...” 

“I just want to protect us, Tubbo,” Schlatt’s tone became stern, “I just want to protect you.”

He was doubtful, but Tubbo had to trust him now. After all, Schlatt had opened up about what seemed like everything to Tubbo. Tubbo still wanted to go back to Tommy and Wilbur, but would they even understand? He didn’t really have a choice anymore. Would he even be accepted back?

“Hey,” Schlatt broke Tubbo out of his thought, “if you’re really upset about the food I can call Quackity to make something for us, since we’re leaving now. Unless you’re not fully rested.”

“Oh no, no I’m rested,” he ran both his hands over his horns, which have barely grown since last night, keeping his headache at ease, “it’s just that... Schlatt?”

“Yes Tubbo?”

“Teach me how to use this power,” he said unsure of himself, but with a determined look in his eyes, “teach me how to use this power like _you_.”

* * *

  
“How much of what you told Twobo were lies?”

He chuckled deeply, “just a few parts. Like how the apple ‘appeared’ in front of me, as if I can’t create them.”

“Didn’t,” Quackity hesitated, “didn’t it appear to you?”

“Well- yes but now I can create them.”

“What else did you tell him,” the rustling of papers was heard as he pulled out a book and quill from an office drawer, “I need to write this all down. We can’t afford any fuck ups from any of us.”

He hummed, “I told him about my friends,” Schlatt paced around the room, attempting to keep quiet, as Tubbo slept in the room over, “I told him that they were too weak to handle the power, which is true, but they didn’t die because of it. I stripped it away from them, that disconnect was too much for their bodies.”

“So you killed them.”

“So I killed them.” He echoed back, pausing, “I told him about Connor.”

The scratching sound of writing stopped, “...Oh.”

He forced his voice, “told him that it’s my fault he’s dead. So at least I’m not completely bullshitting him,” Schlatt hurried to change the subject, “I showed him how I can make disasters but barely, because he needs to think I’m losing my power.”

“And why does he need to know that?”

“So he’ll follow me blindly.”

Quackity snorted, “as if he doesn’t already.”

“He’s smarter than he looks,” Schlatt said as he flipped a coin between his fingers, “way smarter.”

* * *

  
“Tommy give me the letter!”

“No it’s from Eret!” He was running from Wilbur, holding the paper away from him, “I’m burning it, bitch!”

“Tommy!”

“It’s addressed to me, I’ll do what I want!”

Wilbur wanted to punch him, “It could be important!”

Tommy stumbled up the cobblestone stairs, his feet getting caught, almost tripping as Wilbur gained on him. Weaving his way to the top, almost out the base, Tommy crashed in Techno. Techno’s basket of potatoes broke as both him and Tommy fell backwards.

Huffing, Wilbur reached the two, and snatched the note out of Tommy’s hand, shoving in it his back pocket, “you gremlin child, look what you’ve done,” he carefully stepped around the potatoes to reach Technoblade, and pulled out one potato that had gotten stuck in his tusk, “help Techno clean this all up, now.”

“It’s not my fucking fault you wanted the letter so bad,” Tommy mumbled.

“It is, it literally is!” Wilbur said exasperated, “you wouldn’t give me the stupid thing, so I had to go after you for it!”

“Well the last thing Eret’s going to do is send us a letter of help!”

“The last thing you’re going to be IS helpful!”

“Guys!” Techno interjected, “guys it’s about Tubbo.”

Both brits turned to Technoblade, who was no longer on the ground. In his hands was an open letter with Tommy’s name scrawled on its back.

“Why do I even fucking bother-“

“Give it back!” Tommy jumped up from where he had fallen, “it’s got my name on it, let me read it!”

Wilbur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “just read the letter Techno.”

“I am, I am,” he cleared his throat, “Dear Tommy-“

“Please let me read it.”

“-no. Ahem. Dear Tommy, I hope this letter finds you well, blah blah blah generic questions to act as if I care, blah blah blah, I’m doing fine even though you never asked, blah blah- Oh okay here,” he squinted at the page, “Tubbo hasn’t been himself lately. Schlatt has made him a puppet, he’s gone so far that he’s... oh my god.”

“What? What happened to Tubbo?” Tommy asked, tugging at the green handkerchief around his wrist.

Techno swallowed, “I don’t know how, but he’s started to grow horns.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy shouted, “horns? Technoblade you’re joking!”

Wilbur peered over Techno’s shoulder, reading it for himself, “no, he’s not. Tubbo’s... gone. We lost him to Schlatt.”

“No. No,” Tommy insisted, “everything is fine, I’ll- we’ll be able to fix this right?” He turned to Wilbur with pleading eyes, “we can can fix this right? Wilbur?”

“...I don’t know Tommy.” He couldn’t meet Tommy’s eyes, “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in terms of techno’s design, i’m envisioning SAD-ist’s design from the Techno vs Dream animation, but honestly imagine him however you would like!


	4. Significance Stings The Psyche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The letter was by far the worst thing to happen to Pogtopia, but it’s not Eret’s fault trust wavers thin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the 200+ kudos and 2000+ hits!!! it means the world to be that people genuinely enjoy my writing <3 let me know in the comments what you thought of this chapter :) it’s a long one!

In the span of three weeks, everything in Pogtopia was breaking down before each member. Tommy hadn’t been sleeping, his tired expression had all colour drained from his face. The bags under his eyes only disappeared when his eyes were focused on a map, his own plan to get Tubbo back, no matter how long it took. 

At first, Wilbur supported this. 

Even at times walking in on Tommy passed out atop the large round table, the warmth of the lantern and exhaustion having lulled Tommy to sleep, he would quietly grab a blanket to drape it over Tommy’s resting body. As time and time again, Wilbur kept finding himself in this same situation. It became routine, boring, was this really it? Soon enough, Wilbur couldn’t care less about Tommy’s deteriorating health, because he had to worry about his own. 

Wilbur’s paranoia had been eating at him since the letter had been open. Tubbo was supposed to be an inside man, and from what Eret said, Tubbo had willingly become... whatever monster Schlatt had made him. He would often mutter to himself, pacing around the base in varying frantic manners.

Technoblade found it funny that Wilbur would tell himself that everything was ‘eating away at him’ since Techno could tell Wilbur was barely eating. He noticed a lot of things he didn’t want to admit, like how the once loud and honestly, the heart, had become drained of life. The echoes of Pogtopia were still bouncing with noise, but instead of laughter it was replaced by mumbling and the heavy thudding of boots. The scratches of a quill against parchment, crumpled up paper, soft sobbing and frustrated screams. 

He fumbled with his hair, not from any nervousness, but uncertainty, “Tommy! Wilbur!” The noises stopped, replaced by lumbered breathing from the two, for different reasons, “meet me in the planning room to eat!”

As he walked into the room, Tommy was already sitting there, stacks of paper, both flat and crumpled, to his right side, having completely overtaken that chair. Pulling back his own chair to Tommy’s left, Techno sat down after placing plates in front of him, Tommy, and where Wilbur would be sitting.

A small chuckle came from Tommy, “so what’s for dinner tonight Blade?” He pushed aside his plans, bringing his plate forward. He faked an expression of shock, “really Techno, potatoes again? You really need to learn how other crops work big man.”

“Hey it’s a good source of vitamins,” he handed him a fork, overhearing the sounds of boots entering through the doorway, “it’s all the vitamins you’re lacking. Considering you haven’t been going outside.”

“This feels like a personal attack Technoblade.”

“Besides,” he drawled, “we had steak yesterday. Isn’t that right Wilbur?”

Attention was drawn to the man standing over his chair, blank faced and trembling ever so slightly, hands gripping his chair.

Tommy’s head tilted, “Wilbur, you alright?”

“Shut up,” he whispered. Pulling back his chair, screeching it against the cave floors, he sat down, staring down at his food, “just eat your food.”

“You’re one to talk about eating,” Tommy scoffed, “don’t act like Techno and I haven’t noticed.”

“Shut _up_.”

“Tommy don’t drag me into this.”

He threw his arms in the air, “but it’s true! Wilbur hadn’t eaten anything at all past Sunday and-”

“Wednesday.”

“What?”

“I haven’t eaten anything since Wednesday,” Wilbur glared across from him, “what day is today, Tommy?”

He looked towards Techno pleadingly, “it’s... well, obviously uh it’s.... you don’t know Wilbur? That’s embarrassing I can’t believe you don’t know what day it is-”

A fist slammed against the table, “Tommy!” He was shouting, “fucking look at me, and tell me what day it is!”

“I don’t know! Okay?” He spit back, darting his eyes back to Wilbur, “I haven’t known for the past three days, and I was too scared to- to ask literally anyone,” Tommy sunk down in his seat, spooning a forkful of food in his mouth, “I really need some fucking sleep.”

Wilbur’s eyes went back to the food, his knife playing around with his food. While he kept his mind busy, Tommy kept tiredly shoving the food down his throat, the awkward silence serving as ambiance to what had seemingly become a familiar instance. Techno was counting it down while eating. It had been sit, eat, fight, apology, and repeat ever since the other two had been consumed by their own fears. Tommy’s fear of losing Tubbo, and Wilbur’s fear of everyone betraying himself, eventually having to rely on no one but himself. 

The sound of a throat clearing and a sigh interrupted Techno thoughts, “I’m sorry for yelling at you Tommy,” Wilbur said, “I’m just so... stressed. You get it, don’t you?”

“Maybe if you ate something-”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I know you did,” he took a deep breath, “I know.”

Techno continued to eat, hoping the other two would follow suit. Him and Tommy finished up as Wilbur still sat staring at his dish. Techno could tell by the look in Tommy’s eyes that he was itching to ask Wilbur something, but he ushered Tommy to bed. Just the mention of his first proper sleep for the first time in weeks was enticing enough for Tommy, who immediately crashed the moment his head hit the pillows, holding his green handkerchief close to his heart. After assuring to himself that Tommy was fast asleep, Techno went back to see Wilbur, and sure enough, he was still sitting in front of his plate of cold potatoes.

“I’m glad it’s you,” He spoke, cautiously, “rather you than the child.”

Techno sat across from Wilbur, “at least the child knows how emotions work,” a pity laugh came from Wilbur, “what’s been happening with you?”

“Technoblade you would never betray us right?”

“Why would I?”

“So you would never betray me,” their gazes met, “right, Technoblade?”

A pause hung in the air.

“Wilbur. I would never betray you.”

He hummed, nodding, “reassuring, Technoblade. This is reassuring.”

Finally, Wilbur scooped the now mashed, cold potatoes into his mouth. The awkward tension lingered, leaving Techno staring at Wilbur as he ate. Once he finished his plate, him and Techno went to put it with the others. Both tired out of their minds, they went split off in opposite directions, heading to bed. 

One wordlessly, and the other whispering worries of a poisoned meal.

* * *

“No, okay. Tubbo you have to do it like this.”

The past three weeks have been... interesting to say the least. Tubbo had been moving everywhere with Schlatt, no longer following him blindly as a right hand man, but by Schlatt’s side as his apprentice. 

Actions spoke louder than words in Manburg. 

His silent patrols Schlatt insisted he do for safety precautions, had all eyes on Tubbo. It didn’t help that his horns were now growing, the nubs starting to gain height as thick branches poking out of his head. He’d thought about stealing one of Quackity’s beanies and using it as a cover, but one spiteful look from Niki confirmed his suspicions that Eret had already spread the news. 

Fear, while a powerful weapon, was never one Tubbo ever meant to weaponize. 

But if everyone already thought of him as a bad guy, he might as well play the part.

Day after day, Tubbo practiced with Schlatt. Tireless trying to harness what little power was in his blood, which according to Schlatt was very little.

“Remember, the amount of power you have corresponds with your horns. This takes time.” 

All Tubbo’s trust and energy were being used with Schlatt. He didn’t have time or at this point, he didn’t even have care for anyone else. He just needed to get one thing right—

“Fuck!”

Frustrated, he grabbed his hair in his hands, the seams of his suit wrinkling. 

“You okay Tubbo-”

“I just can’t get it right,” he said, voice dripping with anger, “all I’ve got to do is create a tornado, but it’s just not- it’s not working!” He kicked a flower in front of him, the red dye staining his dress shoe.

Schlatt grimaced at the display. Tubbo, while eager, was impatient. He knew that Tubbo was under pressure but his temper tantrums were starting to get on his nerves.

“Like holy shit man I don’t even understand-”

“Tubbo.”

“-how...” his voice dropped, Schlatt stared at him expectantly, while his face was stern, “yes Schlatt?” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “for the love of everything, shut _up_ ,” drawing his hand back from his face, he clapped. As his hands pulled away from one another, a small tornado was formed, “it’s not your fault because you need patience. After all, it’s a virtue.”

Tubbo shifted uncomfortably, “I know. But you keep talking about how I need to dip into this power but I can’t Schlatt, I really can’t.”

“It’s like holding your breath-“

“It’s like holding your breath until it stops, yeah I know,” he interrupted, “but what are you thinking of Schlatt?”

He froze for a moment, the tornado dissipating, only to chuckle to himself.

“Tubbo I’m thinking of where I came from.”

“Where you came from..?”

“Yeah,” he started to walk, nodding at Tubbo to follow him out of the office, “I’m thinking of old friends, some new ones. I’m thinking of the memories, the places I’ve been, and the times I’ve had,” he stopped in his tracks, voice lowering, “but most importantly Tubbo, I’m thinking of the moment I bit that apple. That’s sheer power, you’ll feel that wave of energy.”

He gulped.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Schlatt laughed, slapping him on the back, “I think I’m going to help some of our people out with their tax payments. They’re a little overdue.”

Tubbo returned the laugh back, a bit more nervous than he thought it would come out as, “I’ll see you later today Schlatt,” he said as he began walking towards his room.

The click of his lock went off as Tubbo let out a sigh of relief. Trying to use a power he could barely possess was straining, mentally and physically. All that was replaying in his head was what Schlatt said to think of. Of course he had been trying to resurrect that surge of power of when he first bit the apple, but it simply wasn’t working. So maybe, if he listened to the other piece of advice.

He rubbed his right wrist, almost expecting something to be there. The scar of his hand had been healing, while not completely faded he no longer needed a cloth wrap. Still, that feeling of a missing item was still around.

“OH!” He practically screamed, nearly certain Quackity could have heard him from two doors down.

Bolting from his seating position, Tubbo ran to his closet. Rummaging through his array of suits, jammed in the back, were his old shirt and jeans. His hands dug through every pocket he could until he felt himself grab something soft and familiar. 

He pulled a red handkerchief.

Tommy’s old handkerchief.

He didn’t expect to happen was the wave of sadness that hit him as he began to tie it to his wrist for the first time in what seemed like forever, nor did he expect the sudden wave of power that rivalled the first. 

Memories of L’manburg, the war, and _Tommy_ flooded back to him. It felt powerful to him. Remembering how they first started out, all the quarrels their group had had with Dream, all the bloodshed, the tears, and the disks. 

And the handkerchiefs.

He remembers them sitting on a bench, overlooking the sunset. The jukebox played in the background as they both excitedly discussed what the results of the anticipated election would be. They were so sure Wilbur was going to win.

Tubbo couldn’t help but laugh.

The song faded out as they both sat in silence, looking at the faded sky. Tommy whispered to him. Whispers of the chance of Wilbur losing. That in case it ever happened, that they should never give up hope, because they’ll be together no matter what.

What a joke that was.

Tubbo could almost feel Tommy’s hand again as he remembered how he handed him his red handkerchief. Unsure of what to do, Tubbo handed Tommy his green one. They both laughed, looking back at the now dark sky, and headed back to L’manburg.

He missed Tommy.

He missed Tommy so much. 

This overwhelming feeling became restless in his arms. They were itching, begging to be moved. For something, for anything to be done or destroyed, at this exact moment. Tubbo began to move them, but they felt like weights forced to pull him down by his sides. 

This pang of loss, it overtook him. 

And as it struck him, all that energy that had been building up surged out his palms. But instead of a tornado, or lightning, small bodies of rippling water barely hover above them.

Schlatt had told him he’d be able to create natural disasters, and that it would start small. 

But when Schlatt said he would feel a wave, Tubbo didn’t think he meant a literal tsunami.


	5. The Red Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo has unlocked his power, but unravelled someone else’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa this chapter is one of the shorter ones but took me to LONGEST time to write, enjoy! <3

It had been two days since Tubbo hadn’t left his room. Constantly practicing his new ability to move and shape water, he wanted to at least be able to give Schlatt something to work with next time he gave Tubbo a lesson. 

Late on the first night, Tubbo snuck out to get three buckets of water to practice with. Attempting to be quiet, he slipped off his shoes and tucked them away into the closet, tiptoeing his way through the building. His mission had been proven to be successful. Uninterrupted hours of trial and error, minus when Quackity left him food out his door and when he told Schlatt he needed more time, had proven to be worth it. 

He managed to get the hang of shaping water, barely, but something of even more importance was definitely going to make Schlatt proud. 

His horns. 

Tubbo’s horns had grown visibly.

Excited to show Schlatt, and excited to see Schlatt for the first time in two days. Scrambling to dress himself in his best suit, and retrieving his shoes, Tubbo rushed to the office.

* * *

  
The three weeks of training have proven to be stressful on everyone. Schlatt, Tubbo and Quackity would always retire late to bed, although Tubbo was always confused as to why Quackity was still up, watching as he and Schlatt went their separate ways. Bringing this up once, a mutter response around the lines of ‘cleaning’ was enough to convince Tubbo.

Physically, Tubbo was tired. But mentally... mentally Quackity the one who was exhausted. 

Quackity is not an envious person. Though he would admit that watching Schlatt from the crack of the office door during him and Tubbo’s training was not normal behaviour. Wishing it were him instead of that child. Why was Tubbo the lucky one to get powers, why couldn’t have been him? 

“Why couldn’t it be me?”

The voices from the other end of the door paused, then resumed as if nothing had been spoken.

He didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Jealousy ruins the mind, and jealousy was all he felt. He felt ashamed to admit he had been losing sleep over the ideas of abandonment from Schlatt. Distrustful thoughts plagued his mind day and night, often he caught himself slipping up and letting the words escape his mouth. Mutterings of ‘mine’ and ‘don’t leave’ were what he tried to hide. Worrying that his real internal thoughts of wanting Tubbo gone would seep into the real world. 

He began to feel so atrociously upset any time Schlatt was not in his vision. Upset to the point of mindlessly scratching his notebook the was meant to be full of Schlatt’s lies, with nothing but lines completely flooding each page. His only grounding being the exact notebook he was ruining, because Schlatt trusted _him_ to write this, but didn’t trust him enough to deal with power. 

Quackity could tell Schlatt was getting worried, he liked that, but that meant that was also worried about Tubbo. He handled Tubbo softly now. Rude words were replaced by encouragement and kindness. Quackity was told this was the plan, yet the plan felt like a lie to him.

The worst was when Tubbo hid. Every other hour, finally being able to spend time with Schlatt in his office, only to be asked if Tubbo was alright. He had gotten absolutely sick of being, what he felt like, was being used. While unclear to Schlatt, who believed Quackity was jealous yes, but not insane.

Two days isn’t enough to drive someone mad, but adding it to three weeks was enough to turn Quackity borderline obsessed.   
  


* * *

Quackity sighed, as he cleaned up the office. The kicked over flowerpot from two days ago was dejected, the poppy having been slightly uprooted and smeared into the carpet, it’s pigment having spread itself unevenly. He knew Tubbo had kicked it over, he watched it happen, yet it was still a pain to clean up. 

But he had to.

Because he was the Vice President.

A sound of a door slamming had come from Tubbo’s room. It caught his attention, but he didn’t care to check what damage had been done. It felt nice to repeat those words himself. 

He didn’t care.

The flowerpot felt like nothing to him, it could easily brake between his hands. He just needed to push hard enough.

He didn’t care.

Tubbo was his flowerpot. In the way, a distraction, and a mess. In the end he was just decorative to him and Schlatt’s life.

He didn’t care.

Tubbo was his flowerpot. Easy to break. He needed to push hard enough, needed to push Tubbo hard enough.

_He didn’t—_

The door swung open, in Quackity’s shock he dropped the flowerpot into the uncarpeted hardwood, dirt and smashed clay going everywhere. Harsh foreign curses were heard as Tubbo’s flushed face grew a deeper shade from the embarrassment while he placed buckets of water down.

He cleared his throat, attempting to maintain composure, “what the hell Twobo?!”

“I’m so sorry Quackity I didn’t mean-”

“Sure you didn’t,” agitated and angry, and jealous, he stepped toward the boy. 

“I really didn’t,” Tubbo insisted, “I need to show Schlatt something, where is he?”

Quackity’s footsteps were slow but calculated, as though he had boulders attached to the soles of his feet, “does it matter?”

“Yes it does!” He swatted Quackity’s finger out his face, “here let me show you.”

“Twobo I don’t care.”

“You will-”

His hands grasped themselves onto Tubbo’s shoulders, “no! I won’t,“ his eyes drilled themselves into Tubbo’s, “ever since you’ve shown up... everything’s been batshit crazy. I know Schlatt, and he shouldn’t be like this, but he is. That’s your fault.”

“What?”

Quackity laughed, “it’s your fault,” his hands now reaching to the hilt of his sword, “that I have to do this.”

Drawing his sword forwards, he swung at the boy. Rather than reposition himself for another swing, Quackity’s mouth went agape to the horrific sight before him.

Red began to bleed into the whites of Tubbo’s eyes, quick to overtake his brown irises, it slowed into a viscous drip in towards the funnels, until his pupils became lost to the hue. Quackity stumbled backwards, dropping his sword and slipping on dirt as his hands cut themselves catching himself in the broken pottery. Instead of an expected windstorm or flashes of lighting he had once experienced, Quackity fell victim to a dry feeling in his throat. It travelled through his body. His thirst was immeasurable, moisture escaping him, vision hazy as he could barely notice what little life from that poor poppy was left drained from it. 

Literally drained. 

The water oozed out the plant, pulling what minimal amount it had left away, leaving behind a decaying shell of its former self. Hovering from the ground, rippling with each breath he took, a bubble of water encompassed Tubbo. The deep scarlet light shone through the thin liquid while steady, open palms facing forwards held the shape. Neck craning towards Quackity, the blushing spotlight beamed onto him. 

But there was no noise. No threats, or insults being thrown. Just silence. Silence and awe. 

“I...” A chorus of voices sprung out from Tubbo’s mouth. One was distinctly his own, but an overlay of both deep and delayed words echoed, “I didn’t know I could do that.”

Calmly overturning his hands, palms facing downwards, his shield of water seeped into the carpet. Tubbo’s body lowered from its above position, feet lightly planting themselves onto the wet ground. Noticing the red stain still on his shoe, he undid Tommy’s handkerchief from his wrist. Dipping it in the water and wiping away the mark.

Meanwhile, Quackity was heaving. It was even a struggle for him to stay stable on his knees, body trembling from the sheer amount of what felt like life that was drained from him. Unstable and weak, all he knew to do was to stay alive. He needed a weapon. On the verge of collapse, he reached for the pieces of the shattered pot, wincing at the irony of using what had hurt him previously to hurt someone else.

The noise drew Tubbo’s attention, quickly tying the wet handkerchief back to his wrist. Quackity’s broken form barely managed to seem threatening. It was a sad man shaking in fear and pain, pointing a piece of hardened clay as a makeshift shank at Tubbo’s stomach. He was ashamed to admit it, but Tubbo found this amusing. He didn’t help Quackity. Looking towards the diamond sword, away from Quackity’s reach but close to his, yet he did nothing about it.

Tubbo just stared down at Quackity.

The exact way Schlatt stares down at him.

It made him feel powerful. As he walked away from the trembling man, pride swelled throughout his body. He did that, Tubbo actually did that. An uncomfortable feeling of joy twisted it’s way up to Tubbo’s mind. This was happiness, and it had never felt so wrong.

“You’re a demon!” He heard from a hoarse voice behind him, “you’re a fucking demon Twobo!”

Tubbo chuckled as he shut the door, leaving muffled screams behind him.

Schlatt was going to _love_ this.


End file.
